


Time is Frozen

by sakabelle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bitter Louis, Break Up, Drug Use, Drunk Niall, Future Fic, Harry-centric, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sad Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakabelle/pseuds/sakabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes up ten years in the future not knowing where he is or what's gone on since his last clear memory. As the boys spend their time living together in New York trying to record a new album, Harry tries to piece together the past and find out where everything went wrong for the group.</p>
<p>
  <i>Featuring Harry as super sad and confused, Louis as his bitter ex-boyfriend, Niall and Liam as drunken morons and Zayn as the one trying to keep them all motivated.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time is Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Jess as always for reading this over and for letting me bounce ideas off of her :) xx Loves ya!

Harry's face was nestled deep in his pillow when he woke up. He coughed a little, peeling his eyes open as the sunlight streamed through his room.

That was his first clue. This wasn't his room at all. In fact, he'd never seen this place before in his life. This wasn't even his bed – the dark blue sheets were completely opposite from the caramel coloured ones that donned his king sized bed in London.

He was confused now, closing his eyes and wondering if he was stuck inside some sort of dream.

After laying there for a couple seconds he sighed. It was apparent that he wasn't asleep. Somehow, this was all real. Perhaps he'd gotten drunk and blacked out? That wasn't really like him, but he'd been hanging around Niall an awful lot lately, and that sounded like something that would happen to Irish lad.

Trying to shake the sleep out of his head a bit, he stood up. Stretching his arms, he peered out the window.

He didn't recognize the street either. This was too weird for him and if Niall had dragged him to some remote location after a night of drinking, where the hell was he?

There was a loud crashing noise that came from elsewhere in the house at that very moment, giving Harry a clue.

On his way towards the door he stopped. There was a mirror in the room and when Harry saw himself in it out of the corner of his eye he squinted a little and stepped backwards to take a better look.

A night of drinking really had done him in. His eyes were darker, his hair was shorter (but not too short, it still held its signature curl) his skin was a bit looser and there were faint lines beginning to appear on his forehead.

That was it. No matter how much Niall begged him, he was never going out for pints again.

He shook his head, scratching the top of it as he shuffled out of the room in the strange house in search of the noise. Maybe whoever caused it would give him some answers.

The house was weird, and it definitely wasn't a place that Harry remembered being before. It seemed quite old, with hardwood floors and beaten up banisters. The paint was chipping off the walls. The only thing that looked new were the windows, and Harry figured they must have been replaced at some point within the past few years.

The stairs creaked as he walked down them, making sure to hold onto the railing because it seemed like at any given moment a step might break. There was a sitting room to his left and to his right was the kitchen.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw where all of the racket was coming from.

Niall and Liam were in the kitchen, fussing over the stove. It seemed like they were trying to cook french toast, or perhaps eggs. Harry wasn't really quite sure, and that wasn't his concern at the moment.

They looked... well, to put it mildly, they still looked drunk. Suspicion number two was confirmed, that this must have been caused by a night of drinking.

“You're supposed to butter both sides, Liam,” Niall laughed, picking up the frying pan and waving it around a bit.

What was even more surprising to Harry as he watched this unfold, was that Liam didn't scold Niall. He didn't roll his eyes and he didn't tell him he knew what he was doing. He laughed as well. In fact, he laughed more, holding his sides and nearly doubling over.

Harry just watched, still unnoticed.

“I don't think that makes sense,” Liam chuckled, still laughing through his teeth. “Because then the cheese would have butter all over it.”

“It's not a healthy sandwich, mate. Does something called Grilled Cheese sound healthy? It's grilled cheese – cheese that is grilled,” Niall laughed at his own ridiculous explanation of what they were (very loudly) attempting to cook.

“Grilled cheese?” Liam repeated, looking amused and not at all annoyed.

Niall nodded. “That's what they call it here in America, Liam. You'd best get used to the slang.”

_America?_

Harry chose to ignore that little tidbit, shaking his head even more as he watched them. They looked different too – Niall's hair was actually blonder than when Harry had last seen him. Had he gone to get it dyed after he'd passed out? It hadn't been that blonde since they were just starting out. In fact, even in his post-drunk state, Harry clearly recalled Niall saying that he wanted to grow it back out to his natural colour. Which was certainly not the golden blonde that covered the top of his head. It looked good though, Harry had to admit. There was just something about Niall and that hair colour that did something to him. 

And Liam? Along with his uncharacteristic drunken antics, his hair was longer too. Almost as long as it had been when they'd been on X Factor.

What in the hell was going on? 

Harry coughed, trying to make his presence known. Niall and Liam stopped laughing about their grilled cheese and looked over at Harry.

“Morning, mate,” Liam said. His laughter had stopped, but there was still a smile on his face. Niall on the other hand had sighed and gone back to preparing the bread, completely ignoring Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry said, glancing around. “What happened last night?”

He thought it was a fairly standard question. One that would be met with a round of laughter, possibly telling him about some stupid thing he'd done. But evidently that wasn't the case because Liam just raised his eyebrow, and he was sure that he saw Niall roll his eyes.

He didn't even know Niall knew how to roll his eyes, honestly.

“Nothing you'd be interested in,” Liam said before turning back to Niall and giggling about something. Harry watched as they hovered over the pan, assembling a sandwich like it was the most hilarious and difficult task in the world. They high-fived each other when it was finished, grinning all the while.

“Lads,” Harry starred to say, because he wanted to go back to Niall's comment about America. There was absolutely no way he'd gotten drunk and been dragged halfway across the world. Was there?

But Niall interrupted him. “Louis is probably going to be along once he smells food,” Niall said, still looking down over the pan, but taking a second to glance up at Harry.

At that, Harry smiled. Louis would explain everything to him. He'd probably sass out Niall and Liam for playing this stupid practical joke. Even if things had been a little weird between them lately, and even though Harry was still looking at Niall in a way that would probably make Louis quite upset.

But he and Louis had been dating since X Factor – since Harry was sixteen years old. Surely Louis would understand Harry's need to experiment, if only with just his eyes.

“Huh, didn't think that'd get you to stick around,” Niall shrugged, moving back over to the loaf of bread and beginning to prepare another sandwich. He bumped into Liam, who just laughed, shoving Niall in return.

Harry cocked his head to the side a little bit. He didn't think he'd ever heard Niall to be quite so snippy. Especially when he was drunk, which he definitely seemed to be. Niall only ever got happier when he was drinking, which seemed impossible, given he was happy literally all the time.

“Of course it would,” Harry said with what could only be classified as a nervous laugh. Lately he'd been feeling like Niall had some kind of feelings for him. So perhaps his lashing out was an act of jealously.

But Liam and Niall just exchanged a weird look that Harry didn't understand.

Still lost, Harry walked into the kitchen and plopped himself down on one of the tall chairs sitting beside the island. Liam gave him a bit of a look, raising his eyebrows as he sat down himself, holding a plate with a near-burnt sandwich on it.

Niall had been right – evidently smelling food, Louis walked into the kitchen. Harry smiled at him – surely Louis would tell him what was what. Or apparently not, as Louis just rolled his eyes, avoided Harry's gaze and sat down at the island.

Sat down beside Harry, though. So that must have been a good sign. Harry looked over at Louis. His hair was still shaggy and long, and he clearly hadn't shaved in a few days. Just the same as when he'd seen him last, so really, at least nothing with Louis had changed. Which Harry assumed meant he hadn't been part of whatever shenanigans had gone on the night before.

So he did what he would normally do, and had done hundreds, even thousands of times before. He reached over and softly placed his hand on Louis' thigh.

To which Louis jerked away from him and looked at him in utter disgust. Harry just pulled his hand away, holding it up and staring at Louis in shock. Had he really done something that bad the night before that Louis didn't even want to touch him?

“Just because there's nowhere else for me to sit doesn't mean that you have touching permissions, Styles,” Louis said, shaking his head as though Harry had committed the worst crime possible. “We're here to record an album, not here to be friends. Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head and staring at the marble tabletop. 

The island in the kitchen was also out of place – since the rest of the house looked old. Perhaps it had been installed at the same time as the windows.

Niall laughed a little bit, setting a plate down in front of Louis and sitting down himself with his own plate beside Liam.

Harry looked around at the three of them. Liam was silently eating, Louis was picking the burnt pieces off of his bread (and there were a lot of them) and Niall was chomping away, grinning smugly all the while.

“Don't I get anything?” Harry asked, attempting to joke even though it seemed apparent at this point that it was deliberate that he didn't have any food.

Niall shrugged. “Make it yourself,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “Loads of food.”

Harry gave him a strange look and Louis sighed dramatically.

“Yes Harry, there's _loads of food_. So why don't you go and help yourself to anything you want? You're good at that.”

Niall burst out laughing and looked over at Liam who didn't shake his head, but rather smiled along with him.

“Uh, alright,” Harry shrugged, sliding off of his chair and heading for the fridge. He made himself a sandwich and headed back up to what was apparently his room for the rest of the day (or however long they were here, he still had no idea. And what was that Louis had said about them recording an album?) It was obvious that for whatever reason, the other lads didn't want him around.

* * *

An hour later, Harry got himself dressed (in clothes packed in a suitcase that was hardly familiar) and decided to go for a walk to clear his head.

The neighbourhood their house was in was unfamiliar and small. There were a bunch of houses around just like the one they were staying in, and Harry made sure to take note of the number on theirs so he'd be able to find his way back.

Turning onto a busier street corner, he picked up that they were in America right away. There were a few people walking around that morning, a couple of newstands and coffee stands and of course the telltale sign – the cars were driving on the opposite side of the road. 

Definitely America.

Harry had to shake his head to get that thought to stick in it. Surely he'd have remembered a six hour flight. He glanced over at one of the coffee stands. Maybe caffeine would help to jog his memory.

“Not from around here, are you mate?” the guy behind the till said, mocking Harry's accent slightly.

“Uh, no,” Harry said, fumbling around in his pockets for his wallet. Not surprisingly, he had some American money. As they spent so much time in America, he tried to always keep at least ten dollars on him.

The barista set his coffee down on the counter and watched as Harry pulled the bill out of his wallet. “You want a paper? They're only a dollar extra with the coffee.”

Harry shrugged. He supposed it couldn't hurt. “Sure.”

“It's five dollars even.”

So Harry handed the guy his ten dollar bill, stuffing his change in his pocket and walking away. Coffee in hand, he crossed the street to go back to the house. He glanced down at the paper – maybe it would offer him some explanation.

It did – just not the one he was expecting. The date underneath the Globe and Mail logo plainly read, _September 20th, 2023._

Harry's eyes widened as he stopped dead in his tracks. He read the date over and over again, trying to make sense of it. At first he thought his eyes might be playing tricks on him. He stared at the date, particularly the 2023 for so long that it felt burned into his eyes. 

It was obvious that it was very real. And suddenly this was no longer a matter of him having no idea what had happened the night before, but what had happened in the last ten years, because the last thing he remembered...

Well, the last thing he remembered was that it was 2013. That he was on top of the world. That he and Louis were together and even if things weren't perfect, they were a hell of a lot better than what he had witnessed at the sorry excuse for breakfast that morning.

Walking at a brisk pace, completely forgetting about the coffee he was holding in his hand, he made his way back to the house.

_September 20th 2023._

There was no way he was twenty-nine years old. 

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. As much sense as it could make, given that he had no idea what the hell was going on. But everyone was acting and looked so different. So much more different than they could have in the space of one night.

He burst into the house, kicking off his boots. “What the hell?” he asked, looking over at Niall who was sitting on an old couch in the sitting room. Liam was curled up on the shay lounger next to him. “It's 2023?”

Niall groaned, placing a hand overtop of his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. “Keep it down, would you? I've got a massive headache.”

Harry looked at Niall as though he was crazy. He glanced over at Liam, because maybe he would be able to give him some answers. Niall never knew what day it was even when they were certain of the year, so he definitely wouldn't be any use now. 

“Liam?” Harry asked, his voice getting more and more frantic because he was fucking confused and he wasn't getting any answers. “It's 2023?”

“Yes,” Liam muttered, not moving from his position on the couch. 

“What is the matter with you two?” he asked, placing his basically untouched coffee down on the table near the front door.

“Ugh,” Niall sighed. “Don't worry about it. We'll be fine to go to the studio.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said, choosing to ignore yet another strange comment that he didn't have any context for. “Where's Louis?”

“Upstairs,” Liam mumbled, before he gagged and went off running to the bathroom.

Harry rolled his eyes, figuring they'd obviously come down from their drunken stupor and were now moving into hangover mode. This was typical of Niall – he'd seen it dozens of times. Hell, he was the one to drag Niall out of the club on his twentieth birthday. 

Which, apparently hadn't just been a week ago but was ten years ago. Making Niall thirty. Harry glanced back at Niall before continuing up the stairs in search of Louis. The blonde on the couch certainly didn't look (and certainly wasn't acting) thirty years old. But then again, Niall had always looked young for his age.

“Lou!” Harry shouted as he approached the top of the stairs and hit the long hallway. 

There was no answer which made Harry even more frustrated. The last he remembered, he and Louis were certainly still on speaking terms. Yes, Louis had always had a sassy streak and a short fuse. And sometimes Harry lit it at the wrong time – but never had it been this bad between them.

“Lou!” he shouted again, rubbing his face with his hands. 

He walked up and down the halls until he saw Louis sitting on the bed in one of the rooms, focused on the phone in his hands. 

“There you are,” Harry said, pushing the half-closed door open and stepping inside.

“I don't remember inviting you in,” Louis said, not looking up from his phone.

“Come on, Lou,” Harry said with a sigh. “I need to talk to you – what is going on?”

Louis looked up at him in bewilderment.

“It's 2023,” Harry tried, even though with the way things seemed to be going this probably wouldn't mean nearly as much to Louis as it did to him.

“Yes,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes and a raise of his eyebrows. “The year that comes after 2022. Congratulations.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, clearly about to break and lose his mind from all the confusion and hostility. “I have no idea what happened last night – what happened in the last ten years, apparently. So if you could just tell me what happened, please,” he pleaded, stepping closer to Louis and reaching out to him. “I want it to go back to the way we were.”

But Louis made no move to help him out. Other than to stand up and cross his arms over his chest, which was the total opposite of what Harry wanted and needed right at that moment. 

“The way we were?” Louis asked with almost a laugh, and Harry was getting quick sick of those sarcastic giggles. “Harry, we've hardly spoken in ten years. So if you want to go back to the way we were I suggest you get out of my room and go back to keeping your mouth shut. Christ.”

Harry could only gape at him. How could he have gone that long without speaking to Louis? He could barely make it through two days without texting him when he went home to visit his mum in Holmes Chapel, let alone multiple years. “W...what?” the word fell out and just hung in the air, waiting for Louis to catch it.

“I don't have time for this Harry, we're not here to be friends,” Louis said, pushing past him.

But Harry grabbed him by the arm, because he wasn't going to let this go so easily. He couldn't let it go – not when Louis was on the brink of giving him some kind of answer. Because he always ranted and raved when he was angry, and that was the one thing Harry could depend on in a world he knew nothing about. Even if Louis was angry at him and apparently hated him, he was still Louis.

“Tell me what I've done,” Harry said, his voice low and nearly about to crack. “Tell me what's so wrong that we haven't spoken in ten years.”

“You fucked Niall,” Louis said bluntly, ripping his arm away from Harry's grasp. “Must not have been so great if you don't even remember. Hope it was worth it,” he sneered, walking out of the room and leaving Harry there to watch him go, more confused than he had been before.

* * *

Apparently they were in New York to record their fourth studio album and finish out their contract.

The way that Harry discovered this was by being dragged out of his room by Zayn. After his conversation with Louis he'd walked back to his room in shock and sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Then Zayn showed up, leaning on the door frame. “Come on,” he'd said, a calm smile on his lips. “We've got to get to the studio.”

So Harry had followed him, and now the five of them were sitting in a small studio just a few blocks away from their house.

Niall was in the recording booth singing his part of a song that they'd evidently finished writing a couple days earlier.

Harry sat there watching him. Niall hadn't changed – he still liked to dramatically sing in the booth without his shirt on. Except that back then, when he was younger he did it for a laugh and because it was excessively warm in the studio. Especially when they were recording in Southern California. Now it appeared as though he did it because he thought he was hot shit.

Nevermind that they had to stop on their way to the studio so he could throw up on the boulevard.

“What's this about, then?” Harry asked, rifling through the sheets of lyrics and music that littered the table. And why was it just the five of them? Typically, they had at least three producers and songwriters with them in the studio and any given time.

Louis rolled his eyes and shook his head. Clearly not keen on answering any of Harry's questions.

“The songs from the last two weeks?” Zayn said, giving Harry a small smirk as he looked at him.

Harry just looked at him blankly. 

“You're joking, right?” Liam asked with a slight laugh. Some of the colour had returned to his face from earlier in the day, so he seemed to be in a little bit better of a mood. “Harry, you wrote two of those.”

“Give Harry a break, lads,” Louis said, and for a moment Harry was grateful before he realised his boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, Harry gulped) was being completely sarcastic. “You know it's _hard_ for him. With his _memory lapses_.”

Harry just frowned at Louis, while Zayn placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

After making a mental note to talk to Zayn later about how fucking weird all of this was, Harry picked up one of the lyrics sheets and studied the words on it.

“It's really good,” he muttered, looking over at the booth.

“Yeah,” Zayn said, fiddling with the knobs on the switchboard so all of them could hear Niall's voice. “Top harmony, Nialler,” Zayn said smoothly, and Niall looked out through the glass at them.

Harry looked at him, letting his eyes wander just a little bit. He could hardly even imagine sleeping with Niall as Louis had said he'd evidently done. How would that even happen? It wasn't like he wasn't attracted to Niall – he just figured most people who knew Niall were attracted to him. Niall was cute and happy and full of life and love. Everyone who met him liked him.

At least, they used to. Now, standing on the other side of the glass in the recording booth he looked tired and gaunt. He was skinner than Harry remembered him being – almost too skinny, like he'd been when he was an awkward teenager, before he'd started working out.

And even though his hair was bleached back to his signature golden blonde, it didn't look soft anymore. It just looked dirty. Like he hadn't bothered to take a shower after his night out drinking with Liam. 

“Come on,” Zayn encouraged and Niall held up his hand.

“Just give him a moment,” Louis said, turning to look at Zayn.

“No,” Zayn said, shaking his head. “No more moments. No more fucking around. Do you have any idea how much it's costing us to be in here? We _have_ to start getting some shit done. I'm not letting you lot mess about like you did yesterday.”

“At least we're all here,” Louis muttered, nodding his head towards Niall in the booth yet again.

“Because I dragged you here,” Zayn reminded them. “Because I made sure we all walked here together. None of this 'I'll be along in five minutes.'”

Louis shrugged and Harry narrowed his eyes as Niall stepped out of the booth.

“Done for today, lads,” Niall said, plopping himself down in a chair.

“You are not,” Zayn said, giving him a look. “You only did half the song and it was weak, mate.”

Niall shrugged and Harry gaped at him. How could this be the same Niall who made _Over Again_ so aptly titled because he literally would not stop recording and re-recoding his part until it was absolutely flawless?

“Can alter it,” he said and while Zayn just sighed, it made Harry want to throw up.

He didn't have much of a chance before Zayn was looking at him. “You want to take a turn?”

Actually, Harry did want to take a turn. Being in the studio was his second favourite thing about being in the group, aside from performing. And being with the other lads, though he couldn't really say he was enjoying the company of these strangers right at that moment.

It wasn't until he got into the booth and stared at the lyrics taped up in front of his face that he realised he didn't know the song.

The music started to flow through the headphones over his ears and he read the lyrics, trying to place them along with the melody he was hearing. Of course nothing came, because he had no bloody recollection of the song.

“You missed the cue,” he heard Zayn say. “Start again.”

“I...” Harry started, looking out of the glass. Louis was sitting in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. Liam had his elbow resting on the table and his head propped up on his hand. Niall simply looked bored.

And Zayn was sitting behind the switchboard, playing the role of the producer, looking tired and dejected.

Harry's chest felt tight and a lump started to rise in his throat as he realised he didn't know these people at all.

“I don't know it,” he said finally.

“Of course he doesn't,” he heard Niall mutter with a slight laugh, looking over at Louis for support.

Louis gave Niall a slight nod of agreement.

Harry sighed in frustration. He wanted to know the song. Actually, he wanted to know why he was all of a sudden propelled to this awful future, but it was clear he wasn't going to get that answer anytime soon. So at least, for the time being he wanted to know the song and do a good job on it to make up for the rest of the lads who didn't seem to give two shits.

And he had to wonder why they were there if that was the case. If none of them cared, why come all the way to America to record an album that none of them had a passion for? Especially if they didn't even seem to like each other anymore.

Harry had to backtrack at that thought – they all seemed well fine with each other. They just seemed to hate Harry.

“Fine,” Zayn said with a sigh. “Liam will sing his part. You'll listen and learn it from there.”

Harry nodded and exited the booth, holding the door open so Liam could shuffle lazily inside.

* * *

Dinner that evening was Chinese takeaway. When it arrived, Zayn paid for it and set it down in the middle of the island in the kitchen.

“We're eating together,” he said, but he was promptly ignored as Niall grabbed the container of egg rolls and headed for his room.

“I said we're eating together!” Zayn called after him, but rolled his eyes and went back to assembling his own plate, as his attempt was futile.

“Going to eat with Niall,” Liam said with a shrug as he finished piling noodles on his plate and stepped out of the kitchen.

Louis didn't even bother with any words as he up and left the room, a mound of vegetables and chicken balls on his plate.

“Looks like it's just you and me, I suppose,” Zayn shrugged, glancing at Harry as he picked up one of the plastic forks.

“Right,” Harry muttered, staring down into his plate of food. He glanced over at Zayn, who was just eating like this was a totally normal thing to do. And really, Harry figured, it was. None of the other lads seemed to have woken up in the future, none of them even thought it was weird that Harry did or even knew.

As far as Harry was able to piece together, he'd existed there for the entire time. Doing things that he'd never remembered, like sleeping with Niall or writing songs in the studio.

At least Zayn seemed to be acting normal. As normal as he could be – he seemed to have matured, which Harry figured made sense. People normally did after that length of time. Even though all he'd seen from the others was immaturity and entitlement.

“Zayn,” Harry started, not interested in eating anything but rather using this time alone with Zayn to try and get some answers. 

Zayn looked up at him, his big eyes soft with concern. Harry wondered how often his friend wore that look nowadays. It seemed like there was an awful lot to be concerned about.

“I don't know how I got here,” Harry said, frowning and looking away from Zayn because he didn't think he could take another laugh or eye-roll from anyone. 

But he didn't receive one. Instead, Zayn just nodded and placed a sympathetic hand on top of Harry's. The second for that day.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Harry asked almost tearfully. He could certainly feel them welling up behind his eyes. 

Zayn shrugged. “Just worried about you, mate. This can't be easy for you.”

Harry studied him, wondering if somehow Zayn knew everything weird that was going on. Where he was in some kind of strange alternate universe where Zayn was his spirit guide and this was a strange a fucked up mystical quest.

“What can't?” he asked slowly and carefully, because he wanted Zayn to be the one to explain it all.

“Being here,” Zayn said, taking a bite of his noodles and chewing thoughtfully before finishing. “With Louis and Niall... and seeing how close Liam and Niall are now.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he listened to Zayn. That wasn't the hard part – well, it was. But it wasn't the worst of it, it was just a symptom of a bigger problem. How he'd missed ten years of his life and how he'd managed to screw everything up without even knowing it had happened.

“But,” Harry said slowly, treading lightly. “It's been ten years.”

Zayn nodded sympathetically.

“You don't understand,” Harry sighed, thinking he was just going to have to tell Zayn and let him think he had completely gone off the deep end. “Louis said,” he paused, not able to bring himself to say the words “I slept with Niall.”

Zayn tilted his head to the side as he waited for Harry to continue.

Harry sighed again. “The last ten years are just... I woke up here and didn't know where I was and Louis and I...” And that was when his voice finally cracked and everything that had been building up spilled over.

Zayn stood up from his chair and pulled Harry into a tight hug. “I know, mate,” he said, holding him as Harry sobbed onto his shoulder. “It's a side effect of the drugs.”

Harry calmed down just enough to be able to process what Zayn had said. He'd never taken any drugs. Except for that one time in Australia, but he was fairly certain a joint shared three ways didn't really count. And certainly wouldn't cause anything this catastrophic. “I haven't taken any drugs.”

He pulled away from Zayn and he felt frustrated all over again because Zayn's face still had that awful concerned look on it. 

“The mood suppressants,” Zayn said and Harry continued to look at him with bewilderment. “It can cause spotting in your memory. After you and Louis split, it wasn't... you were depressed for a long time, Harry.”

Yeah, Harry could imagine that would have been the case. He wasn't feeling so great at the moment, and it was evidently ten years after the fact.

“I miss him,” Harry said, because it was the only thing that made sense. He was thankful that Zayn seemed to care about him still, but all he wanted was for Louis to be the one holding him. 

Zayn nodded. “I know you do. I thought it was too soon, this. Not a good idea,” he shook his head. “No one's heart is in it.”

“When does it come back?” Harry asked, still trying to absorb every Zayn had told him. He could smell the Chinese food sitting on the plate in front of him, but it was just making his stomach churn. “When will I remember everything?” he asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to. 

Zayn shook his head. “It comes and goes,” he said. “We're here for you, mate.”

Harry gave him an unimpressed look and Zayn sighed. 

“I'm here for you, mate,” he corrected himself, pulling Harry in closer for another hug.

* * *

Harry was woken up at three in the morning by the front door of the house slamming shut.

He rolled over, trying to go back to sleep. But it was no use. The subsequent noises were too loud and too intrusive to his groggy state. There was rustling around and drunken laughter ringing throughout the house.

So Harry sat up, rubbed his eyes and half-sleepwalked out of his room and down the stairs, holding the railing.

All suspicions were confirmed when he peered down into the dark sitting room, only illuminated by the light of the television set. Niall and Liam were sitting on the larger of the two couches, fighting over the remote and laughing loudly over a repeat of Saturday Night Live.

“Oi,” Harry said, still standing on the stairs peering down at them and rubbing his eyes once again. “Keep it down, lads.”

Whether they heard him or not, it didn't appear to register because they continued laughing and shoving each other around.

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't care what they had gone through in the last ten years that he couldn't remember. He didn't care that it seemed like he was partly responsible. All he cared about was going into the studio tomorrow and trying to make the most of the present – which was recording this album and making it the best it could be.

He made his way down the stairs and stood beside the couch with annoyance. “We have to go into the studio tomorrow,” he said plainly.

Niall and Liam stopped for a moment. Liam sighed, grabbing the remote away from Niall and flipping the channels, but Niall looked up at Harry with his eyes looking glazed over.

_“Ugh, Harry,” Niall moaned as Harry sucked on his neck. “Shouldn't be doin' this, you know...”_

Harry nearly choked as he was hit with the memory of what had apparently ended his relationship with Louis. 

“Jesus Christ, Niall,” Harry said, taking in the appearance of his friend. He didn't think Niall had ever looked at him that way before – his eyes clouded and sickly. He wasn't even sure when the last time he bathed was. “Do you even know where you are right now?”

Niall laughed, but it wasn't the same light airy laugh he had when he was younger and it certainly wasn't the same drunken laugh that had woken Harry up. This laugh was filled with annoyance and disbelief. “Do _you_?” Niall shot back, hitting Liam on the shoulder so he could get some kind of support from him.

Liam just smirked a little, but he didn't say anything. At least Harry was grateful for that – even though Liam was very clearly on Niall's side, he still wasn't interested in being a part of silly arguments within the group. The only difference now was that he didn't seem keen on fixing them either.

_“Louis can't find out,” Harry said slowly, as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of Niall's bed. “This was just a one time thing. He can't...”_

“A hell of a lot better than you do, it seems,” Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at Niall. “What the fuck is the matter with you? Spending all of your time fucking pissed out of your mind?”

“Liam,” Niall laughed, nudging Liam's shoulder again. “Did you hear that? Harry wants to know what's wrong with _us_!” 

Liam shook his head, staring directly at the television in front of him. He didn't smile, he didn't agree with Niall, he just stared straight on.

But that didn't matter to Niall, who just continued. “He wants to know why we're pissed out of our minds, and why you're so fucking high that you can't even move.”

Harry gulped. So that was it – it wasn't that Liam wasn't interested in getting involved in their argument. It was that he was so drugged up that he could only sit there and focus all his concentration on the screen.

Niall stood up from the couch and walked over to Harry. He nearly got right in his face, which was a bit of a laugh because Niall was still about six inches shorter than he was.

“Why is it that we're so fucked up as a band, Styles?” Niall said thickly, his accent dripping off of his words like it always did when he was drunk. Only this time he didn't sound happy and carefree. He sounded angry and lost.

“I reckon it's because you spend all of your time in a drunken haze, Nialler,” Harry said darkly, looking down at him with disgust.

“Fuck off,” Niall said, shoving Harry with what appeared to be all of his might. But since he was drunk it just came off sloppy and weak. 

Harry only had to take a small step backwards to defend himself from Niall. “Don't do this,” he cautioned. 

Niall laughed, shaking his head. He came at Harry again, shoving him with more force this time. “Fuck me,” he said in the same stupid sarcastic tone he'd been using all evening. “Oh wait, you already did. Just one time,” he said, shoving him again, like he wanted to start a fight. Which would have been a bad choice on his part. “Just one time,” he repeated.

“Stop it, Niall,” Harry said, grabbing onto Niall's small wrists and holding them tightly.

“Twenty minutes to rip the whole fucking band apart,” Niall said, not moving from his position, but still looking up at Harry's face. 

Harry had to look away, because Niall's breath actually smelled like he'd eaten an ash tray soaked in Jack Daniel's.

“Aye,” he said loudly. “Look to me when I'm talking to you. You fucked this up, Harry. Not me, not Louis, not Liam, not Zayn. You,” he said point blank, and Harry still tried his best to ignore him while restraining him.

So naturally, Niall tried harder to antagonize him. “Oh Harry Styles,” he whined, changing his tone and swaying from side to side. “He's the face of One Direction. He's the heartthrob, the one that all the girls love. What a load that was,” Niall said, just as Harry turned to look back at him. “No one loves you now.”

The words hit Harry like a ton of bricks and that sick lump started to rise in his throat again as he pushed Niall away from him as hard as he could. Niall ended up flat on his ass of course, given his centre of balance was already thrown off on account of the alcohol.

“Ah yeah,” Niall said, still on his back on the floor. “You wanna go, then?” 

“You a fucking cunt, you know that?” Harry shouted, tears pooling in his eyes as he stared down at the blonde. 

Niall took a second to compose himself, shaking his head slightly and balancing a bit on his palms as he stood back up. “Yeah?” he asked, coming at Harry. “You used me like I was nothing, and that makes _me_ the cunt? You're a bloody riot.”

“Oi!”

Harry glanced up just as Niall shoved him again to see Zayn rushing down the stairs. He positioned himself between Niall and Harry, holding Niall back with one arm and looking at Harry with confusion.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” he asked, glancing at Harry and then back at Niall, who jut ran a hand through his greasy hair and shrugged.

Instead of answering, Harry and Niall just continued to glare at each other. In the background, Liam hunched over and threw up in his lap.

Zayn sighed and looked as though he was about to scream. He didn't though, he just took a deep breath as he glanced over at Liam. “You alright, mate?” he asked, though he didn't sound overly concerned.

Liam nodded a bit, but didn't move from his hunched over position. Niall just looked back at him and laughed. “Can't hold your drink.”

“Neither can you,” Harry said under his breath, but Zayn still heard it and darted his eyes up at Harry. Now was absolutely not the time.

“Holdin' it just fine,” Niall said, jerking away from Zayn. 

Harry pressed his lips together and watched as Niall sat back down beside Liam and rubbed his back slightly. For a moment (and only for a moment) Harry swore that he saw the light shine through Niall's eyes again. The same bright light that he'd had when they were younger, when he just wanted everyone to be happy and enjoy life. That light was dimmer now, but for a second it was there.

“Get some sleep, lads,” Zayn said with a yawn as he stepped away from the scene and started back up the stairs. “We're going to the studio tomorrow, no excuses. Gotta get this album done.”

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the remote off the couch. When he flicked off the television set, the room instantly became bathed in darkness. He took one final glance over at Liam and Niall before heading back upstairs himself.

* * *

Harry woke up a few hours later to find Louis at the foot of his bed.

He scrambled to sit up as fast as he could. His eyes were still burning from lack of sleep, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was Louis sitting there, watching him intently. He had a soft look on his face, and he licked his lips before he spoke.

“Had it out with Niall last night, did you?”

Harry nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of the love of his life. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to form any words. Not since the last time they'd talked, and it had been a complete disaster.

“I'm wondering why you thought you had any right to yell at him,” Louis said with a shrug of his shoulders, still looking at Harry with that soft, smug face. His eyes were squinted slightly and his cheekbones were more prominent that Harry remembered them being.

Harry shook his head and looked down at the dark bedspread. There were a thousand reasons he'd wanted to yell at Niall – the most of which being that he wanted to snap something in him. Perhaps if he'd shaken him enough it would have broken and rearranged him into the person he used to be.

Niall also seemed to be the embodiment of everything that was wrong. 

“He's not well, Lou,” Harry said quietly, still looking downwards and fiddling with the sheets with his fingers.

“Says you,” Louis snapped, and Harry looked back up at him. He couldn't help it, and he wished he hadn't. Whatever softness had been on Louis' face before was gone, and replaced with the same down-turned frown he seemed to be wearing a lot lately.

“He's not,” Harry said, feeling almost defensive. Was everyone in this group suddenly blind? “Drunk off his arse all the time, not giving a shit about being in the studio.”

Louis rolled his eyes and almost laughed. “Right, like you've got it all figured out.”

Harry pressed his lips together and breathed deeply though his nose, filling his chest with air and holding onto it for a moment before letting it go. “Why are you so keen on defending him? You said it yourself, he's the reason we're not together anymore, why we haven't spoken in ten years, apparently.”

“When did I say Niall was the reason?” Louis scoffed, not moving from his position on the bed but leaning in just a little closer to Harry. “I said you fucked him, and that's why it's over.”

“Yeah,” Harry started. “I thought-”

Louis laughed. “You played both of us for fools,” he said, his eyes burning into Harry's soul and nearly making him want to throw up. “You threw our entire relationship away and because you wanted just one fucking night with him.”

_“Lou,” Harry begged, as he crumpled to the ground and clung to his boyfriend's calves. “I'm sorry. Please don't leave.”_

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered as the memory of Louis pulling away from him and walking out the door wafted through his mind.

“Leave Niall the fuck alone,” Louis spat, standing up. “And while we're at it, leave me the fuck alone as well. We're not here to make up. We're not here to have a bloody reunion. We're here to finish up our contract and make some money so we can get on with our lives and never have to have you hanging over our heads again.”

For the second morning in a row he stormed out of the room, leaving Harry to watch him go.

* * *

“From the top, lads,” Zayn said, as the five of them sat around the table in the studio later that day. Instead of actually recording, they were working out a harmony to one of the songs.

It took them nearly the entire afternoon to work out who was going to sing what part. Even still, it was easier than Harry thought it would have been. Niall and Liam weren't that interested in fighting for solos, which left Louis Harry and Zayn to work out what each of them would sing.

Which was simple enough, Harry fell back into his role as the lead. Louis shrugged and nodded when Zayn suggested he take the pre-chorus.

The five of them nodded as they held onto their lyric sheets, Liam holding one up for him and Niall to share as Niall fumbled with the strings of the guitar.

_“I would move heaven and earth for this fire,”_ they sang, and Harry glanced around. He didn't need to read the lyrics – he'd apparently written this song after all. Plus they'd spent the entire day so far singing it, he knew it well enough.

So instead he looked around, and for a second it was like old times.

Louis bounced his leg a little bit as he sang, and Harry couldn't miss the crooked half-smile on his face.

_“For this ocean I'd fight for you.”_

Liam studied the paper and sang easily without looking like he had to make a lot of effort out of it. At one point he looked over at Niall, who was singing the harmony softly as he concentrated on picking at the guitar strings.

_“Let this emotional wind take us higher, where there's nothing we can't do.”_

Zayn shook his head a little as he sang, belting out the harmony and letting the words melt off of his mouth. Harry had always been jealous of the way Zayn could sing – so smoothly and freely. Every power ballad was perfectly suited to his voice.

_“I love you, I love you, this power is greater than the forces of nature.”_

Harry had to gulp as a chill ran down his spine. When they were singing like this it was like everything was back to normal. Like there was no animosity between them. There was just music and the passion that had brought them together in the first place. 

He looked over at Zayn and smiled, because if anyone would be sharing this sentiment with him that's who it would be.

And it appeared as though Zayn did, because he returned the smile as eased right into the bridge as the others stopped singing. Niall continued to play the guitar chords as Zayn held up his hand to sing solo.

_“Nothing is greater than the energy I get from loving you, sooner or later it'll take us to forever...”_

Niall strummed the guitar one more time before stopping. The five of them looked around at each other as they belted out into the chorus one more time.

None of them were able to contain their smiles as they glanced around at each other and sang, letting their voices fill the room. 

It was magic, Harry was sure of it. The last time they'd all been this happy to be together, well it was right before they'd left for the Australian leg of the Take Me Home Tour. Which was still the last thing that Harry truly remembered save for little snippets that were coming back to him one by one.

He looked over at Louis as they hit the end of the chorus. What he wouldn't give to see Louis smiling like that all the time – to erase all the pain that he'd caused. To make everything go back to how it had been. To take back that one stupid night and leave Niall out of any problems they'd been having in their relationship. To make him full of life and hope and love for his career again.

_“I love you,”_ he sang, still watching Louis, even though Louis wasn't watching him at all. He wasn't watching anyone, he was just staring off into space with a content look on his face. _“I love you, this power is greater than the forces of nature...”_

When they stopped singing, Harry quickly darted his eyes away from Louis. The five of them glanced around at each other, not sure where to go from here.

“Class, lads,” Zayn said, the smile still on his face. “Harry, into the booth.”

But Harry could hardly hear him. He didn't want to move, because once he did everything would switch back. Back to being awful. Back to the five of them having nothing in common and no passion at all, let alone one that they shared.

“Harry,” Louis said, repeating after Zayn.

But Harry still didn't move.

“Harry,” Louis said again, more firmly this time. “Harry...”

* * *

“He's coming out of it,” Louis said, as Harry stirred in the bed. “Someone go get the nurse.”

Harry's eyes fluttered and blinked as he tried to pry them open. They felt like they were glued together with cement. He tried to swallow, but his throat just felt dry. The only thing he could see was white walls, the piercing green glow of the lights of some machine blinking beside him and Louis.

Louis was standing over him, looking blurry and concerned and younger than when Harry had last seen him.

He felt his hand drop from what could have only been Louis' tight grasp and the sight of him faded away. Harry closed his eyes again, trying to make some kind of noise as he was poked and prodded at.

The buzzing around him got clearer, and the ringing in his ears got softer and soon the only thing he could hear was the steady electronic beeping.

He sighed a little bit, not knowing what was going on.

“Let him rest,” he heard an unidentified voice say. “He's just sleeping now.”

* * *

Harry's eyes opened again some time later, after his mind had been consumed with nothing but blackness for what felt like ages. He tried to swallow again, but his mouth was still too dry. He had a headache like he'd never felt before, throbbing against his skull and behind his eyes.

The only thing he saw, and the only thing he cared about was Louis sitting at the foot of his bed.

The sheets were lighter this time, white and opposite the black he'd been sleeping in in the house in New York.

“You're bloody stupid, you know that?” Louis said, glaring at Harry and shaking his head. His hair was longer now, almost covering his eyes until Louis pushed it away from his face.

Harry groaned, because he had no idea what happened. Had he passed out in the recording studio? Had that moment with the five of them been too much for his sick brain to take? The more he thought about it, the more it didn't even feel real. All of those memories from the last couple of days were escaping him and as hard as he tried, he couldn't grab on.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

Louis sighed dramatically, but he still scooted up on the bed and took Harry's hand in his. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as his fingers clasped around his own. He looked at Louis in shock, like he couldn't believe this was happening. 

They were silent for a moment before Louis let go of his hand and held a cup of water with a straw close to his face. “Drink,” he instructed. “Slow.”

So Harry did, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat. 

Louis pulled the cup away after a few seconds and set it down on the table beside the bed. “There was an accident,” he said, taking Harry's hand in his own again and looking at him with annoyance. As annoyed as he could be, anyway, because even though Harry still felt somewhat out of it he could have sworn he saw tears building up in Louis' eyes.

Harry just nodded, waiting for Louis to continue.

“I don't know what the fuck you thought you were doing,” Louis said sharply, turning to look down at the ground. “Driving so bloody fast. Could have killed someone. Yourself.”

Harry gulped. He didn't think he'd even had a car with him in New York. Was he even there? Had they taken him home after the supposed accident? “I didn't know I had an American driver's license,” he said.

Louis looked back at him, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What are you on about? America? You took the Range Rover, you twat. On your way to Niall's flat, I reckon. Just two blocks away from it. He's a wreck, by the way. Saying this is all his fault. Wouldn't fucking shut up. Maura had to come and take him home.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to picture that. He mind was so jumbled and confused by what Louis was saying – but he did distinctly remember getting in his car and driving off to Niall's. He also remembered going as fast as he could because he'd been worried he'd think better of it and turn around.

He sunk down into the hard hospital mattress as his mouth hung slightly open and his breaths became short. Then he glanced up at Louis, who still looked concerned and terrified, even if he was trying to mask it with anger.

“You'd better recover soon,” Louis said, still trying his best to sound annoyed. “Management will take the piss out of you if we have to postpone the Australian leg.”

Harry just nodded, not really fussed about management at the moment. “How long was I out?” he asked, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Forty-nine hours and twenty six minutes,” Louis said. His voice cracked at first, but he quickly regained his composure.

Harry took a moment to register that. It hardly even made sense to him. He blinked a few times and searched Louis' face for any sort of additional explanation, but he didn't get one. All he saw was his boyfriend staring at him with his eyes drooping, his mouth pressed together and his face clearly unshaven.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Louis said, shaking his head slowly. He was obviously upset, because he didn't even bother to make a sassy remark. 

It seemed obvious, but given everything that had happened (whether inside his head or not) Harry had to ask. “Are we still together?”

Louis looked at him in near-shock, but quickly recovered and reverted back to the Louis that Harry knew and loved. “No, you idiot. I'm going to leave you because you went and turned over your car. Of course we're still together.”

Harry used all of his energy to sit up and wrap his arms around Louis. He nuzzled his face in Louis' chest and held onto him as tight as his weakened state would allow. “I'm sorry,” Harry said, hot tears dampening Louis' shirt. 

“It's alright,” Louis said, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. “Just stay with me. Don't do anything stupid like this again, yeah?”

Harry nodded, not moving from his grasp around Louis. He would never, ever dream of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> The song that the boys sing isn't mine - it's Forces of Nature by the Backstreet Boys.


End file.
